


My God is a Good God

by kkeithkatt



Series: Siren AU [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Can we bring that back lol, F/F, Fem Sheith, Greek Mythology AU, Kinda, Knotting, Lesbian sheith, Oral Sex, Others Mentioned - Freeform, Porn With Plot, Sheithbians, Siren Biology technically, Vaginal Sex, siren au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:40:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24716206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kkeithkatt/pseuds/kkeithkatt
Summary: They have all heard the stories. Monsters that lurk in the water. Men lost with their lust.Shiro thinks herself above it, knows she’s smarter than to test the give of the ocean and its creatures. The gods do not wish for them to look.Too bad Shiro never really cared for them.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Series: Siren AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1786981
Comments: 9
Kudos: 58





	My God is a Good God

Rain pelted down on their windows, the storm outside raging havoc on their little town. 

Shiro watched as lightning flashed across the bank, purple light bouncing off of everything as a clap of thunder had her grandfather flinch. She turned to him, away from the fogging up glass, and frowned. With every inhale, she could taste the lightning in the air.

It was coming.

Her grandfather sat in the rocking chair, as he usually did, facing their firepit. The low embers were barely enough to light up the dark corners of their little cabin, much less keep anyone warm, and as she watched him shiver again, racked with a nasty cough neither of them could soothe, she stepped around and gave him her blanket from around her shoulders.

“Shiro, no” He protested, shaking hands trying to push hers back, but she just kept wrapping the blanket around him. It was a light purple, not particularly soft or thick, but it would be enough for now. His hands, like they so often were, were freezing to the touch and she fought back the guilty shiver.

“You’re cold.” She said plainly, as that was all there was to it. Her grandfather had taken care of her all her life, no way was she going to let him go cold when he was so clearly sick.

_It’s been too long,_ the traitorous thought crossed and she shoved it aside, her frown deepening. Now was not the time to let fear take root. It would do neither of them good, especially now with them so close.

He frowned and looked away. “And you will be.”

She smiled, the shape of her lips feeling numb and far away. Truth be told, she’s been cold for a while already. By the window, you could barely see from the firelight, what little warmth there was from the fire didn’t even come close to reaching her. But she would never tell him that, never let him know of her discomfort. It just wouldn’t do.

Shiro would survive.

“The gods must be angry.” Her grandfather said quietly, looking towards their dying fire.

She frowned. “The lord does seem particularly upset.” She looked out at the waters. “As does the sea.”  
  


They did not speak their names, as all knew their names had power. Here, more so than most places.

“The sailors must be upsetting them.” Her grandfather continued.

Jaw clenching, she turned. “When do they not?”

Shiro’s little village did not have many things. There were no riches, no jewels or minerals, or fine crafts. The food wasn’t unique or particularly good and the people weren’t tasteful or beautiful. They were, as all accounts could testify, mighty normal and boringly so.

But not far from their coast, the only way through which is by the village, was an area of sea that was rumored to be blessed by the gods and many sailors came here, longing for their favor. They whispered of greed, of gold and promises and secrets mortals like them were never meant to know in the first place. They spoke of glory and Shiro heard their death.

For all who lived here knew better. These hungry, foolish men did not and it was them, _her_ people, that suffered for it.

Outside, thunder clapped again and colors filled their room, overtaking the fire easily. 

Purple painted the walls, the floors, and her cheeks. She stepped closer towards the window, despite her grandfather weakly telling her to step back, and peered out through the dirty glass.

Hail pelted down, clinking against the ground and the sides of their cabin. She squinted some more as she saw something moving in the bank. The ocean rested uneasily on the foot of the hill near their home, waves crashing rocks not far away and licking the bend of sand and grass below. Something in the water, dark and still, bobbed and shifted with the bend of the waves and she tried to make it out before another clap of thunder sounded, loud and sharp, like a whip.

Lightning struck, heavy and crisp and way too close to them for her liking. It made her flinch this time, as it sounded like breaking metal and shattered glass, and when she rightened herself, the shape in the water was gone.

“Shiro.” Her grandfather said. “The fire is dimming.”  
  


The fire had been dimming for over an hour but she stepped away and towards him anyway.

“I’ll fetch some logs.” She promised, fixing his blanket again as she walked towards the door. The rain sounded louder over here somehow, beating against the wood of their door. She pulled her work boots on, mud and grass coating them. Sliding her raincoat over her shoulders, she wondered how going out in the rain was safer than looking through the window. Regardless, she wasn’t going to question her grandfather today and with a promise to be right back, stepped outside.

Wind whipped at the skirt of her coat, tugging the end and slapping her knees. Threadbare pants were soaked immediately and she clutched her coat tighter around her throat, walking down wet steps to the side of her home. There, laid their woodshed, ratty and thin as they themselves were, and with a groan, she slid the door open to grab some more logs.

They had a decent stockpile, the only thing they really had enough of. Living this close to the sea, lots of driftwood washed up and the trees around them picked up for any slack there might be. Lucky, the townspeople told them, and she scoffed to herself.

There was no luck here.

Living here, on this island away from the rest of the world, was lonely. Shiro couldn’t help but feel like she was meant for so much more. The need to discover ran through her like the lightning did in the sky. She wanted, more than anything, to get on one of the boats that came through here so often and never look back.

But that’s what got her parents in trouble in the first place and as her grandfather liked to remind her, she knew better.

After gathering enough logs in her arms, she stepped out. It was hard to close the door shut without dropping all of them, harder still to lock it, but Shiro managed, getting even more soaked in the process as the hood of her coat fell. Water soaked through her strands straight to the root, bangs falling limply into her eyes. She huffed and blew at them to no avail, stepping around back towards the front of their cabin.

And then she saw it.

With all of the rain, it was hard to make out any features, but clear as day a figure was stalking around the bank of the ocean. Waves crashed around long, bare legs, pale and bright with the lightning storm. Dark hair, either in color or wetness, whipped around an equally pale face. The figure was naked and as they stepped closer, clearly female as soft, supple breasts came more into focus.

Despite herself, Shiro blushed. She’s never seen a woman like this before, beside herself of course. She’s known for a while now that she didn’t long after the flesh of men but this creature before her was nothing like the girls in the village or off the ships. Those girls wore layers upon layers of cheap silks and heavy cottons, hiding skin and teasing hair. Just to get a glimpse of their elbow was enough to send anyone into a tizzy. This woman, though, didn’t have a single scrap of clothing on her, not even undergarments, and it was getting harder to look away.

Then she saw the woman’s bright yellow eyes. As the woman stepped farther away from the sea, she subsequently got closer to Shiro. And she was looking right at her, as if she somehow knew Shiro was out here too, feasting upon her naked form. She didn’t shout though, didn’t run.

The woman grinned, teeth flashing in time with the storm, bright and clean. Eyes gold and glowing glinted through the dark and her breath hitched.

She knew the stories, knew the whispers of the rumors. She knew what the hungry sailors came for, knew what dragged them to the bottom of the sea, and Shiro was no fool. She wasn’t going to end up like them.

She ran home, the door only a few feet away, and slammed the door behind her, locking it shut. The wood fell at her feet with a loud clutter, making her grandfather flinch and exclaim, worried.

“Shiro!” He yelled, standing and turning away from their too small fire, shaking with the effort. “What’s wrong?”  
  


She panted against the wood, dipped her head back, and hit her skull against it. The taste of rain stained her face, kissed her tongue, and she wet her lips with it, thinking of the creature by the sea.

“Nothing,” She breathed. She couldn’t worry him. She wouldn’t do that to him. “Just wet is all.”  
  


Her grandfather didn’t seem to believe her, but hands still came up to tug on her coat, helping her get out of it.

He chuckled. “Maybe if you wore it properly,” he fussed and she chuckled too, thoughts far away, on the other side of the door where the siren waited.

Shiro was no fool though. She wouldn’t be going out again until the storm passed.

* * *

Eventually, the storm did pass. With its departure though, sickness settled upon her little village. Harder than it had the last time.

It’s too soon, Shiro thought, and it was true. Her people had barely made it through the last wave, several of them still feeling it’s cold grip, but the gods didn’t care that they were already weak and dying. Punishment, they say, was due anyway.

The town spoke in whispers and broken cries of angered gods, of cursed witches. They were angry, the priest said. Angry with them for letting the sailors touch what was theirs.

Shiro wanted to scream, wanted to cry and rage war, wanted to curse Zeus and Poseidon, and whoever else dared to damn them. It wasn’t their fault, it wasn’t their responsibility to keep those men from haggling with the sea. They warned them, warned them every time one of the scowling, brutish fools docked on their beach. They told them the stories, told them what happened to the ships that followed the bend, the path given to them by meddling witches and wicked men. But these sailors were just as bad, just as greedy, and they didn’t care what the cost was. Scoffed at the mere idea of giving it up.

Shiro didn’t curse their names though. She didn’t want to bring more death to their home.

So the sickness continued to spread and people in the village quieted. They thought it was a mere cold at first, maybe caught by the recent storm, but then it lingered, far longer than it should have. People grew hazy with fever, minds cluttered and smeared with confusion. They would stumble for days, hit things, and knock them over. Vomit would cover their chins, the ground at their feet, and blood would stain their teeth. They’d drool and spit with heat, awake and talk in tongues no one knew but the foreign travelers docking in. 

Sky sickness, they called it. Zeus was not happy with them it seemed. First his brother and now . . . .

Winter continued like that.

Their village usually prospered with the warm air, liked the heat, as did the men coming there, so most autumns they would grow their foods, selling them at the market, and come winter, everyone would shut themselves in. But this autumn, they had grown little. The ground didn’t prosper, stayed dry or too wet, and bugs ate away what did grow, wild animals tearing into the crops.

And so the winter had been a harsh one, rampant with sickness and dead crops. The whole village had suffered, no one having enough money for food or medicine or fresh linens. When spring came she had taken note of the missing faces, the empty stalls, and had kept walking, counting herself lucky to not be among them.

And then her grandfather had fallen ill, his body frail and weakened even more by an illness the doctor couldn’t fix. It had almost been summer and Shiro hadn’t heard any mutterings of coughs or sneezing in the village for weeks. It shouldn’t have happened, shouldn’t have been him.

But it was and now she was alone, just Shiro in the empty sea cottage, with her sick grandfather. Sicker than the others, a different rage taking hold of him. 

She never should have cursed the gods. Even her head was unsafe from them.

* * *

It has been a long summer.

Before, when her life was calmer, more whole, she had little to worry over. Shiro’s parents disappeared on a boat when she was young, long before she even knew what all those people were chasing in the sea. She hadn’t known then that they weren’t ever coming back but she knew, when the boat returned, empty and bare like the others, that they were dead.

As much as she hates to think it, Shiro counts herself lucky her grandfather raised her. Shiro’s grateful she had him and on bad days, she hates herself for thinking she’s better off without the people that brought her into this world when she has him. From what little she remembers of her parents though and from what she hears of them, they wouldn’t have agreed with a lot of her. They left her alone, after all.

She’s been alone for a long time though.

Just her and her grandfather. Many seemed to think they were strange enough.

Shiro had always known her grandfather was different from the rest of the village. For one, they lived nowhere near the others. Where most were close to town, surrounding the docks in an easy curve, children living at the shops their parents ran, they lived away from it all. Her family had always lived by the sea in a little cottage not far from the shore, pale sand tracking in every time she steps through the threshold. It had just been her and grandfather, an older man that knew her better than her parents ever had.

He had never asked Shiro to wed another, not even when they were low for money and barely scraping by (if what they did could even be called that). Grandfather had never made her wear the silky dresses the other girls favored or made her learn to weave baskets. When she had stubbornly tugged pants on, knees dirty and torn, he had just laughed and braided her hair for her. When Shiro had longingly stared off towards the sea, watching the waters rush against their shore (for she’d always see it as theirs), wishing herself to be with the men yelling and shoving their ways onto the boats, he had simply told her she’d be out there one day. Away from this place.

But Grandfather is sick now and that changes things. It changes everything.

With one less person in the home working, money is short. Shiro’s little family makes their money by selling the trinkets from the sea, scrubbed clean, and renewed with life once again. Little glass bottles, shiny rainbow scales, smooth rocks, milky white shells, smooth pearls. You name it, Shiro has probably found it already on her shore. It’s a lot of work for one person, especially when they’ve got a name for themselves in town for being fixers. Anything she gets her hands on can be made new again. It’s not just the sea that brings them things these days.

Without grandfather, she was doing all the work herself though, trying to make ends meet to stay in the little home she had left, the only thing she had of her family. His sickness was taking another toll on their funds too, not that she would ever hold that against him. Shiro doesn’t care how much she has to work to keep him safe. 

So when the next boat came out, crashing against their shore with young strapping men and boisterous laughs, she had proudly held her head, walked up to its captain, and declared she wanted to go with them on their next voyage.

Shiro has lived in this village her whole life and she knows the waters better than anyone here. She knows the faces that come here, knows the sounds of their sails and the crunch of their wood. There’s only one place people go to when they pass through her village and if the rumors are to be true, it houses a treasure that’ll be more than enough to get them through the rest of her life.

She would never have to marry a man, never have to give up her home, or be afraid of an expensive disease ever again. They would be safe. Secure.

She had to go.

The captain had surprised her when, mouth gaping with his own shock, he had gruffly agreed for her to come. And then, with a flick of his tailcoat, he hollered for her whole village to hear.

“Anyone may come, man or woman, so long as you find us all the gold.”

For that was the other side of the rumor, the reason Shiro’s grandfather had never allowed her to truly venture into their seas. For lurking in the waters of gold, it was said, monsters hid. Monsters that were to lure men to their deaths, dragging them kicking and screaming into the ocean where they would be torn apart and eaten, never to be seen again.

She’s seen a lot of strapping young men get on these boats and she’s never seen one come back. Shiro puts a lot of stock into these stories and has felt her bones freeze and rattle with the whispers of them, but when you’re as desperate as she is now, you go for it anyway.

Be brave, she tells herself.

“Be brave.” The Captain says the next morning, Sendak his name. He claps her shoulder as she boards his ship. “If we find it,” He trails off and she looks away, towards the sun, the sea, the fear waiting out there.

Waiting for her, like it always has been.

* * *

There are other people she knows with her on the boat.

Shiro had suspected most of the crew would be Sendak’s men, her village too familiar with the stories to be foolish enough to go, but she supposes that like herself, the winter really had made them all hungry and afraid.

Hunk is leaning against the cabin doors, hands clenched in fists as his friend Lance sits next to him, whispering something quickly underneath his breath. Neither of them should be out here, both far too kind for what the sea has to offer them, but she says nothing. She knows better.

Like herself, Pidge is one of the few women to have come aboard. There’s a furious, stubborn scowl across her face and Shiro doesn’t dare step closer towards her, as does none of the crewmen casting glances at her petite frame. She’s not the kind of girl to be here, as much as Shiro doesn’t like to think that. She’s not like Zethrid with her strong arms and towering build or Shiro who’s well . . . Shiro. But Pidge lost both her father and brother to the winter this year and with her mother at home, it can’t be easy. She has just as much of a reason to be here as anyone else.

The water called to her, watching as it danced across the expanse before her. She has always feared it, always hated the ocean, and as she gazes at it now she’s not sure whether she hates or loves it more. Wind whips quickly, screaming in her ear and slapping her hair away, around, it tickles her lips, her cheeks.

She belongs here, it sings, and despite her foolish heart, Shiro truly believes it.

The tide rushes against the sideboards of the ship and behind her, she hears the men squabbling, mumbling. They are afraid, the wind seems to say. Good, she thinks.

The wood beneath her feet creaks and she grips the railing harder, tighter. Nails dig into the paneling and she can feel a splinter sliding under but she does not let go. She waits and she watches the blue before her.

_Come to me,_ the wind sings and she tightens her hold, feels the wood sink deeper. _Come to us._

The sails snap, not breaking away but sounding like it, and she darts a look up to them as they shift and the boat jerks. Several people scream and with a look around, Shiro finds the captain. Sendak’s face holds wonder and surprise and she wants to cackle, to jeer, for he should have listened to their warnings.

So should she have.

The wood creaks as water surges over the side of the ship, splashing down over her feet and drenching the men around her. Her shirt, soaked to the bone, clings to her skin like a second shed and she shakes with the chill, feels it crawling up her spine. No doubt, everything is bare to the men’s hungry gazes but for once, it’s not her they’ll be looking at.

_Find the gold._ A voice echoes, high and laughing. She can hear the sneer in it, the disdain, and flinches away from the water, from the wood. _Find me._

Shiro spins and stumbles as a tall man she doesn’t know bumps into her, her knees hit the ground, slipping on water.

It is not gold they have found.

And suddenly, as if all the fight has left it, the air goes still. The wind is quiet and calm like all its energy has left it at once. Like the rest of them, she holds her breath and waits. Biting her lip, she peers back at the ocean. Standing up, she squints and looks onward towards where the faint, twisted noises had been.

There is nothing there.

And then, they hear it.

The first voice is soft, like a lullaby. It carries easily, delicately, like a hand would across smooth skin. A soft melody Shiro does not recognize fills the silence around them and as her grip tightens on the rails even further, she is suddenly very very afraid.

But she’s not sure of what: them or herself?

The singing voice gets louder, her soft melody rising into something warmer, no, hotter. Her skin itches from it and she resists the urge to scratch at it. Something tells her if she lets go now, it’s over.

As the melody continues to carry and the men beside her sways on his feet, another voice echoes across.

This one is lower in pitch and darker. A smooth tenor, one impossible for women like her, rushes at them. It beats against her ears and caresses her face like it’s trying to map her features. Slowly, calculating, reverently.

A heavy weight settles upon her and her body feels like stone. Shiro slumps against the railing, tired, and a finger twitches towards the sea. Salt is bright against her tongue. The wind, it seems, is picking up again.

As it starts to howl softly, the singing duo's voices never stopping, she thinks she sees something in the distance. Squinting, tongue poking out the side of her mouth, and the sun in her eyes, she tries to make out a shape.

There is nothing there.

Beside her, a man moves. She knows not his name, only knows the heavy feel of his hands against her elbows. He had guided her onto the ship before it set sail, words gentle and touch fleeting. Fear had struck her at first regardless.

He is stumbling across the deck, feet bending at sharp angles and knees shaking as if he were drunk. The singing voices get louder and she thinks she understands.

Another sailor reaches out to him, their hand barely moving to grasp his shoulder. They are slow, too slow. They do not stop him and he keeps walking and walking until he is at the railing but a few feet down from her.

Her eyes are torn from watching him and the waves before her. The music continues as another voice joins in, this one high and fleeting like a hummingbird.

She peeks at the water before returning her gaze back to him and around them people watch, their eyes hungry and confused. The water sways and practically falls against the railing, his body slumping as he holds an arm out above the ocean. She feels a chill rush over her as the wind picks up a bit more and she shivers.

The man does not stop though. He reaches down, bending over the side as if he were a child at the docks trying to play with the fish. His fingers reach nothing and he growls, the sound low in his throat and desperate. Before she can even think, he is throwing his leg over the side and suddenly he is falling.

The splash he makes against the surface is loud, like a snap of leather in the mix of the singing beautiful voices. He swims, pushing his body away, towards the area she had been watching earlier. She watches as he pants and strains himself, his body not used to such powerful thrusts, before he stills, lingering.

His head bobs once then twice before disappearing altogether.

Another voice begins to sing.

She hears a few of the crew start to panic, their blood rushing and feet shuffling. Their footsteps are heavy and loud against the wood as they walk around, scrambling for an escape. Where would they go, she wonders, when there is only one other exit?

Their fear is like a heavy stare against her back. She is not afraid.

Her nails drag against the wood, the splinter digging itself under her nail even more. The pain is light and quick up her hand. She barely notices.

As another voice begins to sing, she spits them. Far beyond, where the rocks hit and the clouds are heavy, a shock of blonde hair bleeds through the blue as the sun does above them all.

The first woman she sees is like one from a dream. Her hair is pale and light and long. The blonde strands reach down to her ribs, barely covering her giant breasts at all. Smooth, creamy skin is bare for them all to see, and she watches as the woman sings. A long tail of teal scales runs where her legs would be, were she human, and dips into the edge of the water below them. Her own fingers card through her hair, braiding it slowly and methodically like she does not have a care in the world. She throws some of it back and out of her way, exposing more of herself to them. A peak of pink greets her eyes and behind her, she can hear a man grumble.

Another jumps, the noise sounding distant to her ears.

Mermaids. No. _Sirens_. Shiro’s heart beats loud and her grip tightens.

After she sees the first one, it’s like the world is suddenly clear. Beside the blonde siren sits another woman, this one different than her companion. She has a bright shock of red hair, curls messy and wild, and like something Shiro would spend hours tugging happily. Her skin is darker but just as smooth, just as enticing. Feathers of dark blues cover her arms and thighs and between her legs. She can feel her large, dark, playful eyes upon them. She is singing louder than the others, more carefree, more twisted. This one, she thinks, this one is to be feared. A wicked, sharp smirk flashes, just a hint of teeth, and another person jumps over the railings. Zethrid, her mind registers.

As another one of her companions drops into the sea after her, she takes her gaze across the rocks, eyeing the sky warily. The waves beat louder against their ship and it shakes once, her feet shuffling and dragging to adjust, to remain upright. You must not let go, the wind seems to warn her as it beats against her face. She can feel her hair fall from its mess of a bun and it whips freely around her now. An ominous cloud of black to shroud her face.

The singing women are more beautiful than their voices claim, something she thought impossible. A strong-looking woman with purple and pink hair lifts her tail out of the water, a long line of dark purple scales and glittering panes. She dips her head back and looks at the sun as she sings and behind her, she hears Tex curse before he too joins the sea.

His body is gone from sight before she can even blink.

Another woman with dark skin and long, poofy white hair sings loudly, the beautiful and soft alto of her voice stretching across the feet between them easily. She is wet, Shiro notes, and her hair is dripping with water. She watches as the woman grabs fistfuls of hair and twists, allowing trails of water to pour down her bare skin, over the curves of her breasts, and down her navel. White feathers line her edges.

Lance and Lotor and even another are quick to jump.

After that it’s like her crew cannot stop dropping, their hands outstretched and wide smiles across their faces as they eagerly escape into the ocean to reach these beautiful creatures Shiro knows they will never reach.

The waves crash loudly and beat harder against the ship and it shakes more this time, almost causing her to fall, were her grip not tight and feet not stubbornly planted.

She wants to yell at it that she will not bow or bend. They cannot have her.

Shiro is no weak-willed man.

Another siren sings, her own song out of tune with the others, as she brushes and stretches out brown and green feathers. She is smaller than most of her companions and her voice is lighter, younger. Still, it soothes Shiro’s ears and almost makes her smile.

She runs her gaze over them still before turning away to check on the others. The deck is noticeably thinner than it had been once the storm started. Too many of them are gone, have jumped, and she knows that no matter how hard they try, there’s a strong chance that the rest are soon to follow. They are only human and these beings before them are not.

She wants to curse and scream and plead but she does not. She will not.

It’s as Shiro turns a glare to the ocean that she sees her.

Sitting away from most of the others is another siren. Her lips are sealed and no singing escapes her as a frown tugs at her lips. Face upturned, chin high, she looks like she’s turning away from them. Like she is too good for them or rather they are not deserving of her song.

The longer Shiro looks at her, the more she is inclined to agree.

The mermaid's tail is long and thin, glittering beautifully in the sun. Scales of bright reds and warm golds shine, reminding Shiro of the hidden gems deep within the ship. She has long, dark, black hair that rests just over her shoulder in thick, careless waves. Dark purple eyes that seem to reach her even this far out are set wide in her face. Her skin is not smooth like the others but rather marred with thin and thick scars of the like. They cover her left shoulder, the side of her cheek, and litter her wrists. Dark purple feathers peak out along her throat.

This one, Shiro thinks, is no musician.

She is the most beautiful being she has ever seen and suddenly, the water looks all the more appealing.

But just as she’s thinking to loosen her grip, just a little, the woman turns and looks right at her. She stiffens and waits for her judgment.

The mermaid frowns, spine straightening as if suddenly caught. It reminds Shiro so much of the village girls at school that she almost laughs. As it is she does not and the siren continues to stare. Their gazes are locked and the longer they stay that way the more she can feel the sweat on her skin respirating. 

And then, she smiles.

Shiro’s breath hitches and her grip relaxes on the wood but before she can think to even jump, to let this creature win, the boat shakes and a loud noise reaches her ears.

The sirens eyes widen, purple blown wide as they dip their head back and tilt to the side. Shiro frowns, grip on the railing loosening, but before she can even think to do anything _\- jumpjumpjump -_ the ship is rocked to the right and she falls back, slamming against the wood paneling.

Sitting up, Shiro realizes that in all the fuss with the sea creatures, no one bothered to wonder who was steering the ship. She vaguely remembers Captain Sendak hovering precariously close to the side of the ship, nowhere even close to where he should have been.

Sure enough, when Shiro spins around to look, the wheel is spinning rapidly, alone and unattended. The ship rocks hard to the left, waves carrying it away from the sirens. A man wails brokenly before jumping off, trying to swim towards them only to be swept under like the others. 

Shiro doesn’t jump, but without a captain steering the ship, the boat is bound to crash. She shoots another last look at the beautiful siren but the girl is gone, not a single flash of fin or feathers in the rolling blue sea.

She turns back to the helm, the sound of screaming and splashing echoing all around her, and as Shiro struggles to make her way over, she knows already that she’ll be too late.

She’s not going to make it in time and up ahead of them is an archipelago, shielded by a cluster of giant rocks. If she could just get them around-

But just as her fingers graze the fine wood, the wheel spins rapidly and she falls, slipping on dirty seawater, and there’s a jolt as the ship rocks and a crunch rings her head. She falls, face forward, and slams against the ground, feels the shock of it crash through her cheeks, her ribs, and the ship shakes again, stronger.

And then she feels pain. The colors are too fast, the words and sounds too loud, and she can’t register anything but the zing of pain running up her arm, down her chest, and it’s dark, so dark, and the water is too cold on her body, too strong as it pulls her down, closer.

_Water?_ She thinks but then the darkness creeps closer, the pain lightens stronger, and she feels something sharp grip her ankles, and then it’s not just the waves pulling her down.

Water fills her mouth, trickles down her throat and fills her lungs, and Shiro knows nothing after. 

* * *

When Shiro wakes, there is sunlight.

Her back is pressed against a sandy beach, pebbles of it digging against her bare back. Her shirt, she notes, is gone entirely and green wrapping is tied securely across her chest, mostly covering her breasts.

An ache has settled over her and she feels it in her muscles, like a purr, heavy and hurtful. A sharper, brighter pain echoes over both her arms, and as she slowly sits up, Shiro sees the same green plants wrapped there too. Some have red stains edging them and she swallows, looking away. Her right arm, she notes, is gone.

“You’re awake.” A feminine voice says and she flinches with a gasp, jerking back and looking around.

Besides her, only a few feet over sits the dark-haired siren.

Up close, she looks different. But even far away Shiro would note the distinct lack of a tail. Where red and gold scales had been knitted together before, there are now long, tanned legs. Something shimmery glitters over them and when she stares a little harder, she catches sight of gold scales, barely visible and light in the sunlight. The siren has her bare legs crossed over each other, painting a pretty picture between her legs that Shiro has to tear her gaze away from with a dark blush.

But drawing her eyes up doesn’t help much either as the girl’s chest is just as bare, just as open to her sight. Small boobs perk up at her, the nipples hard as the wind softly brushes over them, and the woman almost seems to be purposely pushing her chest out with the way she has her arms braced behind her. This close, Shiro can see the angry purple scar wrapped around her left rib. The feathers have stayed, unlike the tail, and reach over her collarbone, a few trailing down between her breasts.

Shiro aches to touch them. To run her fingers over the soft edges. The supple skin.

“I’m not dead.” Shiro gapes, the words slipping out smoother than the sun rays, easier than her breathing. The siren snorts inelegantly, tracking a careful eye over Shiro’s form.

“No.” She agrees and Shiro’s heart skips a beat.

“Why not?”  
  


Lips curve into a point. “Would you rather be?”  
  
Even now, Shiro feels the pain of hunger pressing firmly against her stomach. She thinks of their village, of the rotting shock, and empty halls.

Her parents never came back.

Shiro thinks of her grandfather then and shakes her head.

“Your crew is dead.” The siren tells her after a beat and Shiro stills and allows herself to wander in the agony running up her arm. Or what’s left of it. “The sea has taken them and your boat.”

It is not a surprise. Shiro knew coming here what would likely come of them all. She thinks of the wind, warm and rough on her face, and thinks of her friends. What came of them? Was it the waters that drowned them, like the siren claims? Or was it the creatures?

She eyes the siren before looking away.

So much for gold.

“Why am I here then?” She asks bitterly.

Shifting herself, the siren exposes more of herself and it takes everything in her not to look. This is the temptation of gods, they say. Who is Shiro to devour it? To resist?

The siren sighs annoyed more than wistful and it draws Shiro’s gaze. A patch of gold scales line her ear, shiny in the sunlight. Beside it, a feather curves smoothly. “Who knows why the gods destined it?”

The siren peers over at her before flashing what must be an attempt of a smile. It looks awkward and forced and Shiro almost mirrors it.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” The siren tells her this as if Shiro would ever believe that so quickly. So simply.

But she had saved her...

Shiro sneezes and the siren flinches at the noise. Her lips curve up again, more genuine, and Shiro fidgets. They look soft. She wonders what they would feel like against her own. On her skin.

“Where’d you get a hair tie?” She blurts out, panicked at the path her thoughts are hedging. The siren smirks, likely knowing this but amuses her anyway. She reaches up, tugging loosely at the light pink scrunchie in her hair, securely keeping her wavy dark hair in the messiest bun Shiro’s ever seen.

The siren is still smirking. “I stole it.”

Shiro swallows, tracking her eyes down the siren’s muscled arms as they flex with her movements. “From who?” She whispers and the girl flashes her a grin full of sharp, pointed teeth.

“Not all the sailors are men, human.” Her dark eyes flash gold. “You know that.”  
  


She stares at those teeth, feels the hum of pain down her own bare chest. “Did you eat her too?”

Shiro knows the stories. Has heard all her life about the sirens that lurk in the waters, preying on drunken sailors too stupid with lust and pride. She knows the creature before her is one of them, knows she’s going to strip her bones clean, and lick her blood with a heavy tongue.

Heat pools between her legs at the thought, at the fear kissing her thoughts, her throat, and she swallows thickly and looks away, towards the gentle sea in front of them. So unlike it was before.

She hears the frown in the siren’s voice when the girl talks. “I did.”

The sand is rough under her thighs. She doesn’t know what happened to her pants but judging by the scratches, they were probably torn when the ship wrecked. The siren apparently deemed them useless and tore them the rest of the way off for her. How considerate.

At least the sun is warm on her skin. At least she still has her underwear on.

“You’re a monster.” She speaks lowly to the ground and watches as a shadow crosses over. She can smell the water, the lightning again, as the sea creature creeps closer.

“She asked me to.” The siren says plainly, casually, as if she hadn’t just confessed to eating a girl. “Just as you will.”  
  


Shiro stiffens and lifts her head, spinning around to throw her a glare, grey eyes angry and dark. The siren meets her look steadily, blinking slowly at her without a single care in the world.

They both know who the prey is here. Who’s in charge.

“You saved me.” She says instead, breathing harshly through her nose. The ocean is too crisp. “Why.”

The siren shrugs and uncrosses one of her legs, stretching it out before her. The rest of her follows and Shiro has to dart her eyes up again, the blush turning angry.

“I prefer my food healthy.”

She clenches her jaw. “I am not your _food_.” She practically spats and the girl merely looks away, back towards the sea.

“We’ll see.” The siren mutters, still staring at the rushing waves. “The gods wouldn’t have brought you to us otherwise.”  
  
“The gods,” Shiro snarls, suddenly angry. The heat coils around her and twists, rushing through her and making her fingers twitch. “A ship full of fools brought me here. Not _them_.”

The siren turns to her, face too pretty and sharply tempting. Shiro catches sight of another feather, tucked by her ear, and has to tighten her hand against herself, curving in the hot sand. 

“Fools.” She repeats and smiles at her, soft and unkind at the same time. “And are you not one of them?”  
  


Shiro looks away and the siren chuckles, bright and low, and it makes her warmer.

Even her laugh is pretty. As tempting as any of the songs the others sang.

She hears her rustle and Shiro turns back to watch as the girl stands, brushing sand off of her. She cards a finger over the feathers covering her front, crooning low in her throat, and scratches over shiny scales, and with the girl angled like this, Shiro catches an eye full between her legs, where she’s wet and dripping.

A hand is thrust in front of her face, fingers wiggling, and she blinks at it, tracing her gaze up the forearm to a flirty smirk playing across the siren’s face.

“Come on.” She says. “It’s time we go.”

“Where?” Shiro says dumbly, stretching her own legs out, ready to stand. Something feels different about her. Her skin tingles with the brush of the girl’s hand on her own.

She doesn’t answer her. “Take off your bindings.” She says instead and Shiro looks at the plants wrapped around her wounds, still feels the echo of the pain of them, and looks back up at her warily.

“They’ll hurt.” She whispers and it feels like a confession, to be telling this creature that, but the girl’s lips soften into something of a smile, gentle and understanding.

“That's why we’re going.” She tells her, guiding Shiro into a stand. Her pointed nails trace up her left arm, running up to the greenery. She doesn’t remove them. “I can heal you. If you ask.”

A hand wraps around her right arm, curling around her shoulder, nails digging into the meat of her muscles. She tugs at what’s left anyway, where the plants are wrapped tightly.

“What do you mean?” Shiro asks. “You keep saying I have to ask. That I _will_ ask.”  
  
The siren frowns but helps Shiro steady her legs and together, the siren guides her a few steps, away from the water and toward the trees surrounding their backs.

“I know the stories the mortals have given you.” The siren says, voice low and steady. Her eyes drift to the ground, where she watches their steps. Shiro’s own gaze joins hers. “Know you think us to be bloodthirsty ravagers of the sea.”  
  


“Are you not?” She interrupts before she can stop herself and Shiro’s breath hitches when gold eyes turn on her, pointed and stern.

“You humans come here looking for treasures. For gold and women to take. For favors the gods do not owe you. Secrets that were never yours.” She frowns and Shiro mirrors it, thinking of the sailors, of all the ships she’s seen cross through their docks. “This is my home. We’re not the savages here.”

“So you eat them?”

The siren frowns, heady and curled angry. “We don’t _eat_ them.” She snaps before her frown shifts to something lighter. “At least, not in the way you think.”  
  


They stop walking and Shiro watches silently as hands come up to her chest, pressing gently against her ribs, pressing into her breasts. She feels the shock of it, the warmth in the girls’ palms, even through the layer of wrappings, and it’s probably that that lets her undo the binds, freeing Shiro from the bandages. She barely notices that this reveals her to the woman, that her breasts are just out and open for her gaze, for her skin is perfectly unmarred, not a single scratch on her.

“Wh-?” She mumbles, hands coming up and over the sirens, covering them as she fondles herself. She squeezes them and pushes them around, marveling at how they look completely fine, completely healed, but still _feel_ like they hurt.

“Sirens can feed off of eating humans.” The girl says suddenly, not looking away from what they’re both looking at. “That’s true. But I can also eat in other ways. One of which is by your pleasure.”  
  


“My-?” Shiro swallows, looking away and back towards her face. “I don’t... “

“If I can bring you pleasure, an orgasm,” She clarifies and Shiro’s grip tightens, squeezing her breasts tighter to her, and the blush deepens into something else, heat pooling low. “Then I can feed off the excess energy. Your seed. That’s how I like to eat.”

“You would,” She can’t say it. The siren flashes her a heady look anyway and nods.

Despite herself, Shiro can’t help but think about it. The siren would look so beautiful if Shiro were to push her to her knees and guide her mouth to her cunt, make her lap at her hole and over her lips. She’d suck at her clit so perfectly too, mouth hot and tight and wicked. And the siren would gratefully eat her out, wiping her tongue over and over and collecting her slick like it were the finest wine.

She shuffles her feet over the sand and the siren grins up at her.

“There’s an added benefit for you too.” She continues as if Shiro can possibly handle anything else. “My magic can heal you, but it’s only sparked by sex. So I can fully heal your wounds,” She traces a finger over the mangled curve of her right arm “But you have to ask for it. Have to ask me to fuck you.”

Shiro feels a knot in her chest and rubs over it. “I thought sirens just sang songs to drown people?”

The woman’s claws dug deeper and she stepped closer, making Shiro breathe in her alluring scent. It filled her. “They do,” She purred, nuzzling close until she could press her nose into the tuck of Shiro’s throat. Their skin was hot, just as warm as her own, and she brought her hand up to wrap around a bony hip. 

“But the ones that survive?” A tongue peeked out and licked over her pulse, slowly. “They deserve a reward.”

She swallowed as one of Keith’s hands reached between them and cupped her over her panties. A thumb ran over her clit fleetingly and she whimpered. No one’s ever touched her like this before and this siren? She definitely knew what she was doing.

“A reward?” Gods her tongue felt so swollen in her mouth. She squeezed the girl’s hip.

Hot air breathed on her ear. “Let me reward you.” The siren sang, voice raspy and whiskey wet. “Let me heal you, Shiro.”  
  
She knows my name, Shiro thought, but it felt far away, sugary sweet with feeling and she ground herself down against the siren’s palm, felt herself staining her front.

“Your name.” She gasped out, suddenly important. “Tell me your name.”  
  
The siren hummed and licked over her pulse again, dragging her nose back up Shiro’s jaw so she could nibble her ear. “Keith,” She purred, like names don’t mean anything here, and that was enough.

“Keith,” She whispered, hot and frenzied. The heat between her legs was becoming too much. She’s never felt like this before. Maybe the siren was actually going to kill her this way?

It’d be a better way to go, she supposes.

“Keith,” She repeated and pressed a kiss to warm skin. “Fuck me.”

The siren, Keith, grinned against her neck and bit down, gruelly squeezing her pussy at the same time. “Ask for it, Shiro.” She chuckled, dark and full of promise. A finger teased her hole through the cotton, pushing against it and away. “You have to ask.”

She whined and clenched her thighs, tightening around Keith’s wayward hand. “Please,” She breathed, eyes clutching shut for a second. “Keith, please fuck me. _Please_.”

Keith purred loudly, happy and pleased, and pulled away, making Shiro grunt in complaint. The siren merely laughed at her though and tugged at her hand.

“I’ll give you what you want, Shiro.” She promised, making them walk further in the trees. “But we have to go somewhere first.”

Keith’s scent clouded her the whole way there, Shiro stumbling over uneven ground and Keith laughing merrily and brightly, occasionally allowing Shiro to pull her into fleeting, messy kisses. She was drunk off of her. Shiro’s never tasted a woman before, has never felt the soft press of their lips before, and she’s intoxicated, mind warped with lust and hunger and she wonders, briefly, if Keith feels the same, is as hungry as her.

Surely she is, with the way she presses back and slides her tongue in, gasping low.

Before long, the trees begin to part, revealing marble steps. There’s a fallen frame of a building, white marble arches and pillars still somehow standing. There are flowers everywhere, the pollen heavy in the air as bees buzz by, and she gapes at.

It may be broken, but Shiro recognizes an altar when she sees one.

Keith guides her over cracked steps, under a pale roof. The air seems to glitter just as much as Keith’s skin had.

“This is a sacred land!” She hisses through her teeth, not sure if the siren would even be listening to her. But Keith turned, eyes dark and hair darker, and gave a smile full of teeth and nothing warm.

“There is nothing sacred here.” She purred. “Not anymore.”

Most of the altar is gone, crumbled away by weather and age and who knows what else, and Shiro shivers delightedly when Keith stops in the center and gently guides her back to the ground.

“The energy is strongest here,” Keith tells her, running a hand over Shiro’s collarbone, dipping a finger into the hollow. “You lived because the gods deemed it so. So we thank them here.”  
  
“With sex?” She chuckles, nerves clouding the sound more than she had hoped. Keith’s hand feels comforting on her skin though as she squeezes her shoulder once more, claws barely prickling.

“There is no greater way to show them our appreciation,” Keith says and she supposes that’s true. They’ve all heard _those_ stories too after all. “Besides,” Keith shoots her a wink. “Everyone likes a show.”  
  
Shiro blushes to her roots but it’s easy to ignore when Keith guides her hands down, caressing over her breasts, pressing her hand into her ribs, over her stomach. Her touches are brief and fleeting, but she’s frozen just watching her, feeling the smooth press of her scales hidden there.

“I hope you don’t mind my other form,” Keith says and she jolts, looking back up into gold eyes that blink purple and back. “It’s easier for this part. Better equipped.”  
  
Shiro doesn’t really understand what Keith is trying to say here but she nods and swallows around her tongue. “I don’t mind.”  
  
Keith nods, once, apparently satisfied, before removing her hand and running it down her own figure. She cards her fingers back through purple feathers, racks them down her breasts and abs and Shiro watches as gold and red scales seem to appear out of nowhere like Keith had scratched something away.

Shiro knows little of magic, of how the gods and their creations work, but it’s the only explanation for the way Keith’s legs seem to curve and bend towards each other and scales cover them anew. She watches with a tight throat as the tail appears once more, scales impossibly bright in the pale altar light, her legs gone. Keith breathes deeply, exhaling a final breath, and when she looks back at her, gold and dark blue reaches out to her.

Scaled hands help Keith scoot closer. And belatedly, Shiro notices the small pool of water they’re near. It’s not quite in the center like they had been, but it’s simple to go there, instinctual to turn so Keith can dip her tail into it.

Like this, Keith’s front half is settled between her legs, Shiro’s knees bent and legs up, feet flat against the ground. Keith curls her hands over her ankles.

She sets her lips. “You can touch. If you want.”

Keith narrows purple-gold eyes, the glow peeking through her dark bangs and the shadows of the arch. Water drips from somewhere above and Shiro feels a drip land on her fingers, heavy and wet.

Keith’s hands are also wet as they slowly come up to touch her leg. Shiro tries not to flinch or shake at the touch and surprisingly, she finds looking into Keith’s face easier. Her touch is rough, skin tougher than Shiro’s own, and covered in calluses. But she’s gentle as she draws a claw down Shiro’s leg, her muscles tensing under her. 

Keith gets down to her socks when she looks back up, looking at Shiro almost shyly when she reaches to toy with the edges. Funny, that her pants are gone but not these.

Shiro smiles, shaky and loose, and swallows around any kind of noise hitching in her throat. “Want those off?”

Keith nods quickly, clawed fingers curving to grip a hold of her calf. It should hurt and there’s a little pinch, but it’s easy to ignore as she slowly bends forward, slow enough to not startle the siren.

Shiro is more than aware that she’s definitely the prey here. She’s not going to do anything that could fuck this up.

Keith straightens and watches as Shiro carefully, slowly pulls them off. She sets them aside by her feet and wiggles her toes, which makes Keith squint and bend to look at them.

She swallows hard when another finger hovers over them, claw poking at the nail and then the rest of her toes. She wiggles them again and Keith draws back, eyes narrowed. She shoots Shiro a look and despite herself, she can’t help but chuckle.

“What? They’re just my toes.” Keith squints and turns her head, looking a lot like the cat her friend Lotor has. _Had_. She points at them.

“Mine have webbing between them.” Shiro tries to think of Keith’s feet from before but admittedly, they hadn’t really been her focus. A pity. She’s sure they’re just as pretty. 

Keith frowns at her own words before she moves herself. The tail behind her draped over the ground and the pool gets pulled out in front of them. She shifts easily, despite the tail looking long and heavy, and rests it beside Shiro’s own legs.

It’s gorgeous. It matches Keith perfectly too. With black, almost translucent side fins running down the side, the tail is a rich red. Gold scales pepper around the fins, both on the side and at the end, where the red scales seem to darken and mix into a deep black. Gold and black scales flicker around her bare hips too, rising up to kiss pale skin all up to her ribs. Her eyes follow the patches of scales, she can’t seem to stop herself.

Keith’s breasts are small, much smaller than Shiro’s own, and scales hide under one and on the side of the other. A single red scale rests on her right breast and she wants to kiss it, wants to taste it and see if it feels differently on her tongue than the others do.

More red and gold scales cover her shoulders and rise up her neck, disappearing entirely into thick, black curls. The scrunchie is long gone somehow, leaving Keith’s hair a mess, reaching down her back in long waves and she looks like a princess from her storybooks. She wishes she had the hair tie with her now though as Keith seems to know she’s looking at her and swipes angrily at her hair with a swipe of her claws.

“You’re beautiful.” She says, immediately regretting it.

It’s true Keith is very beautiful and she likely knows this. She’s a siren after all. It’s her business to a beautiful temptress of the sea, ensnaring foolish sailors and clumsy men. and hadn’t she succeeded? Shiro is no man herself but a fool? That she is.

Keith had even told her so.

She’s sitting here, across from the siren her people have feared for longer than she can remember, and already she can feel the magic of the sea licking back at her bones and thoughts, ready to devour.

Keith is hungry, she realizes, and it makes her blood burn hotter.

For fear or arousal, she’s no longer sure.

Across from her, Keith stares evenly back. She stretches her tail out, brushing it against Shiro’s thighs. “No toes.” She says.

Shiro looks up from where her eyes had drifted back down again. “What?”

The siren huffs, annoyed, and rolls her eyes. “No toes.” She repeats. She shifts her tail again. “Does it bother you?”

“Oh.” She swallows. This is what she had been asking her before. “It’s okay.” She looks down at her. No matter what form she’s in, Keith will always look devastatingly gorgeous to her.

“Touch,” Keith commands and it has her snapping her chin up again, ever attentive. “If you want.”

She swallows and chances another look at her face. Keith has a stern look in her eyes, firm in a way Shiro doesn’t see in any of the other girls in her village. She likes it. She wants.

She touches the tail.

Keith’s scales are as rough as the rest of her feels like, reminiscent of sandpaper. They’re smoother though, not as prickly. Just strong and sturdy. Shiro thinks if she were to pluck one and try to bend it, not much would happen. The more she traces her fingers over hard scales, the better they feel and the more numb her mind gets.

Shiro sighs, tongue heavy, and looks back at her companion when a clawed hand comes to wrap around her wrist. The nails feel sharp against her skin, reminding her of the danger here. But Keith’s eyes are gentle, if fierce, and all she does is draw Shiro’s hand away from her tail. She scoots closer until their faces are near and places Shiro’s palm on her breasts.

She’s a lot softer here, is Shiro’s first thought.

_Fuck_ is the next.

“Touch,” Keith says simply. “Let me help.”

Shiro swallows, feels the blood rushing, the pain in her arms, over her chest, and nods.

_Be brave,_ the captain had said.

She is.

Shiro runs her thumb over a pink nipple. Feels how hard it is beneath her pad, and it feels surreal, watching her touch another like this. Being touched in turn.

“Don’t be afraid,” Keith tells her, pressing a palm against Shiro’s cheek, sliding it down to her shoulder, and easing her body back. Once again, Shiro is pressed against the ground.

Keith returns between her legs, parts Shiro's knees for her. She ignores the trembling there, the way Shiro seems to shake with every second, and lowers her face to Shiro’s panty covered pussy. Her slick has stained through the cotton, leaving a distinct wet patch on the front that Keith licks her tongue over.

“Keith,” Shiro pleads and Keith smirks up at her, teeth wicked and sharp.

“I’ll take real good care of you, Shiro.” She hums, voice slurring with the hint of a song. The siren in her waking up at the hint of her arousal. “Promise.”

It’s hard to argue with that when Keith draws her face down again and nuzzles a purr against her labia. It feels good, warm and then hot, and she knows it’d feel even better without the cloth but Keith hasn’t deemed it necessary to remove them yet. Who is Shiro to argue?

Still, a croon is shared between them when Keith edges two of her fingers under the fabric, not pulling it away but hiding under, like a secret. Her claws are sharp and too much against Shiro’s sensitive skin as they tug at her panties and gently scrape down the seam of her very inner thigh.

Shiro tries not to buck her hips, to move, but it’s increasingly hard when Keith is so close to where she is aching, and so hard when all of this is so new. “Baby,” She whimpers, caught between arousal and embarrassment at the noise.

Arousal wins though because then Keith looks up, eyes gold and purple and distractedly captivating. She gives Shiro’s cunt another nuzzle, nipping playfully at the band, before hands draw up the meat of her thighs and hook in at the top, scratching down her hip bones. Shiro shivers and tries not to plead.

Maybe Keith isn’t a siren here, on this altar. Maybe she’s the goddess.

“Have you done this before?”

Shiro forces a chuckle, shaky and nervous. “With a woman? Absolutely not.”  
  
Keith shakes her head, waves dancing. “No. With anyone.”

As if she would ever lay with a man. Shiro shakes her head, throat suddenly too tight.

Keith nods and plays with the end of Shiro’s panties, claws nicking her skin. Shiro wants her to dig them in deeper, deep enough to leave a mark so that when she draws them down her legs and over her back, red lines will light up the way.

She wants to feel this. She wants to remember.

“Even better,” Keith says and Shiro blushes, feels it in her core. Keith drags her underwear down, crooning a bird song low in her throat as Shiro is fully revealed to her. Shuffling on the floor, Shiro breathes hotly and gasps her name.

“Shhh,” She sings, guiding the material over her knees and down her calves. Keith throws them to the side, unimportant, and Shiro blushes redder at the sight of the curved, tangled cloth. If the townspeople could see her now...

The siren scoots closer, water moving around her tail, and some of it splashes onto her toes, wiggling and cold. Keith presses her face close, way too close, and Shiro stares down at her with eyes that feel too fuzzy to be her own. Her own slick folds make her want to whine.

She wonders how Keith will taste.

A hand wraps around the underside of Shiro’s thigh, firm and strong, and guides it open wider.

“Just feel,” Keith instructs her, squeezing her leg. Shiro swallows thickly. “I’ll do all the work here.”

Before she can even think to say anything, Keith is ducking down, swiping a solid stripe up her cunt, and Shiro is shaking, shaking. It’s too good.

Distantly she can feel the pleasurable press of claws into her thigh, but it pales with Keith’s tongue collecting her slick, drawing up the wetness and lapping at it like she’s the sweetest sugar. A heat builds inside her, foreign and stronger than any time before, with just herself.

When sex is your business though, you’re favorite snack, she thinks you’d be pretty good at it.

Fingers creep closer, pinching the skin and sliding over slick. Keith teases her with them, not quite prodding her hole but making sure Shiro definitely wishes she were. The rough scales swirl over her lips, spreading her mess, and pushing it around. Keith hums lowly as she licks it up, cleaning her, and making another pass of slick slide out of her and over her thighs.

Keith cleans that up too and as the blush on her cheeks spreads, Shiro’s never felt such a mess.

The siren’s lips curl against her clit with the grace of a smile, Keith’s pointed nose burying into Shiro’s curls and inhaling her deeply. A thumb presses softly against her hope, not quite entering her yet, and Shiro throws her head back as Keith sucks and kisses.

Her mouth is hot, tongue swirling around her sex as a finger finally enters here, just the tip, and tugs at her loose rim, prodding and searching around. Shiro knows the feeling and arches her hips, digging her heels into the altar stones and bringing herself closer. Driving Keith in deeper.

Her hand wanders up and buries itself into Keith’s hair, tugging on shiny, dark waves.

“Baby,” She gasps. The room is so hot. Above them, through the cracked stone, the sun beats down through a hole and lightens them with sunlight. Keith’s scales glimmer brightly, like the lost coins Shiro used to find in the sea’s bank, washed up on their pale shore. “I need more.”

Another finger enters her, sliding easily through with Shiro’s slick easing the way, and Keith gently bites down on her clit, teeth barely scraping her at all, but it makes her toes curl and Shiro screams, silent and open-mouthed as the gods watch them with envy.

They may have gifted her this, may have cursed her with thoughts of a beautiful woman forever, but Shiro’s the one that gets to touch her now.

Keith pulls her mouth away, her cheeks red and chest heaving as she breathes in the fresh air. Slick stains her chin and lips sticky and when she presses close to Shiro’s face, Shiro runs her hands over the mess, pressing it deeper as she slides her own tongue into Keith’s mouth and tastes them both.

Another finger stretches her as Keith lets Shiro devour her mouth, noses pressed roughly together. Even here, with Shiro herself on her tongue, Keith tastes divine. Strong and savory and nothing like the forbidden fruits the sailors would jeer about.

She was better.

Keith pulls back and breathes hotly over Shiro’s face, fingers still inside of her, and stretching the human out. Shiro allows her eyes to drop and finally linger to Keith’s exposed breasts.

Like the rest of her, she’s pink and sweaty. Freckles line the scales like keynotes. Dusty pink nipples are peaked from swollen mounds and with her mind this fuzzy, this unconcerned, Shiro lets herself touch.

Keith sees this and guides Shiro’s shaking hands quickly, gasping loudly as she presses one tight to her front, imploring Shiro to squeeze her together. Her tits are small but feel so much bigger in Shiro’s palm, fat and full and soft. She looks at them, at the way Keith’s tanned body looks with her own, nipple pressed against her finger.

The best painting is definitely of women, Shiro decides.

She surges up, nearly uprooting Keith’s fingers, but it’s hard to care when she gets her mouth on her, teasing precious skin with her own teeth, her own tongue. Keith wines and arches up into it, pressing closer, and her fingers crook inside Shiro’s cunt, making the both of them mumble out praise.

Keith growls low in her throat and Shiro bites down too hard. “You want to fuck me, human?”

Shiro’s body aches. She’s too hot, sweat dripping down her back and sealing her arms. Her arms that still thrum with pain, slow and steady, and worse than her racing heartbeat. Her chest itches, burns, and she presses closer and gasps hotly against Keith’s breast.

“Please,” She kisses the side of her, over bone. “Please, Keith, let me.”

Keith purrs, a weird mix of the clicking birds and stray cats of the island, and easily flips their positions. She eases back, guiding Shiro with her so that she is now laid atop the siren, heavy and tall. Keith’s tail splashes in the water and drops cover her back, cooling the heated skin enough for her to sigh.

Below her, Keith’s hair fans out. It’s so dark against the pale stone, like the moon is in their sky at night. Shiro wants to wrap her fist in it.

A smirk is thrown up at her.

“Take what you need, Shiro.” A hand presses against one of her injuries, gentle but enough to make her jolt. “I will provide.”

Slick leaks out of her pussy and stains Keith’s front, wetting her scales properly. “How?”  
  


The smirk firms. Keith draws her fingers through Shiro’s own and guides her hand down, over muscled abs and a rising tummy, until she’s at her waist, where the skin becomes nothing but hardened scales and unforgiving. 

“My kind are very versatile,” Keith tells her before she moves Shiro’s hand further and with wide eyes, Shiro watches as Keith guides her over a slit she hadn’t even noticed. Their fingers prod at it and slide over and into a molten core. She’s so wet here, achingly hot, and Shiro moans before Keith does at the feel of it.

Keith’s hole is nothing like Shiro’s. There’s the hint of folds, though they’re decidedly more inner than her own could be and much smoother. Shiro’s fingers slip over them, Keith’s slick thicker than hers too.

“How-?” She starts and the siren hushes her, pushes Shiro’s fingers in even deeper, until she feels something else. Something firm.

“I told you.” Keith croons, guiding Shiro’s fingers over whatever it is. The thing inside her twitches and she swears it’s getting bigger, the space inside Keith’s slit now allowing Shiro to bend and crook her fingers with ease. “I can provide.”

She watches, partially in horror but mostly fascination, as Keith stretches herself out, using Shiro’s fingers to do it, and something begins to push back at them, making her fingers slip out of her as it begins to protrude.

Just as pink as her opening had been, so is what can only be Keith’s cock. It’s thick, about as big as Shiro’s wrist, give or take some space, and only gets longer as Keith wraps her and Shiro’s fingers around it, teasing the puckered head and squeezing around the shaft. Keith draws their grip up and down it as more is revealed, edging it out of her.

“Is that-” Shiro stutters out, even though they both know it is, and Keith nods as she bites her lip. A hand grasps onto Shiro’s other hand and guides it to her abdomen, where she spreads Shiro’s palm flat and fingers out before pushing down. Keith arches with a low groan as her cock seems to jut the rest of the way out in a rush and it’s there in all her glory for Shiro to feast upon.

Shiro’s never seen a naked man before, has never even thought about it, but she’s sure that, like her, the siren doesn’t match. Keith’s cock is huge for one, and she’s sure if any of the sailors had been nearly as big as her they would definitely be boastful. It’s still pink, though the base is now more of a lilac, blending faithfully in with her scales, and has a sizable curve to it. There’s a knot at the base too, protruding out of Keith’s hole and pressing heavily against her inner folds, stretching her more. It looks fat and heavy and Shiro thinks if it were to smack her, she’d easily have a bruise.

The heat builds and she wants it. The pain spikes and she _needs_ it.

“Keith,” She gasps and the siren croons loudly and nods.

Hands settle on Shiro’s hips, helping her adjust and move to where they need her. With Keith’s help, Shiro sits in her lap, pussy hovering and dripping over Keith’s cock. Keith doesn’t sink her down though, keeping a firm hold on Shiro, forcing her to just linger over it, the tip teasing the rim of her hole.

Shiro gapes. “ _Keith_.”

The siren clicks her tongue and reaches out to hold her base. She toys with Shiro’s fold, dragging the tip over them and pushing slick around. “You wanna ride me, baby?”

She clicks her tongue back, making gold eyes widen and shoot up to her. “ _Yes_. Gods, please.”

Keith growls and sinks her claws into the meat of Shiro’s hips and in one quick thrust, has Shiro swallowing her whole. It’s quick, too fast, and suddenly she’s overwhelmingly, perfectly full. Keith’s cock twitches inside of her, Shiro’s walls hugging it possessively, and they still as Keith growls again.

“The gods do not give you pleasure.” She snarls. “ _I do._ ”

Shiro begins to sob as with that Keith lifts her up and slams her back down again, claws digging in deeper. She feels the sting of it, the beginning prick of blood she’s been craving, and squeezes back just as tightly.

“Look at you,” Keith spits, shifting underneath her so she’s practically sitting up. “You’d die without me. Without my cock.”

It’s true. Keith had saved her from the wreckage. Had saved her from the other, blood-hungry sirens. Had tended her wounds. Was healing them, even now.

Shiro should show her gratitude.

Keith sinks in deeper, the tip of her cock prodding harshly against Shiro’s cervix. She feels it in her stomach, pushing deeper and deeper, carving more room where there is none to give. Her knot shoves against her pussy, slapping the folds, and teeth dig into Shiro’s shoulder, sharper than any humans.

Blood pools in Keith’s mouth immediately, human skin far too fragile, and rolls down Shiro’s arm in rivulets. Shiro doesn’t notice or care though, just grips Keith’s shoulders back and lifts herself, driving her cunt down Keith’s cock like the feral creature she’s become.

Her pussy eats it up, swallowing Keith and sucking her in like it’s the best thing Shiro’s ever had. And it easily is. She tightens around it, feels Keith spill a little inside her, slick and precum wetting their way even more.

“Gonna let me fill you, Shiro?” Keith asks, panting against her neck. Her breath is too hot. “Let me heal you?”

Shiro gasps, sliding a hand down between them to frame her cunt, where Keith’s cock is pounding into her. She presses her fingers down into her folds and twitches, arching up in a way that has Keith’s curved cock pushing against something that has her crying.

She wonders how long the tears have been falling.

Her arm has stopped hurting.

“Need more.” She tells the siren and Keith croons back, that pretty sound more than song making Shiro grin dopily. She laughs as her thighs tremble, as Keith grips her breasts roughly and squeezes them like a vice.

The claws dig deeper and she’s lost.

Keith’s knot shoves inside of her, slick gushing out the side of it as it locks inside and tugs on her rim every time one of them moves. She growls against her neck, her shoulder, into the air, as she drives it in more, little jerks of their hips being all they can do.

It’s so big, barely fitting in her pussy, and this isn’t at all how Shiro imagined losing her virginity but gods is she grateful for it.

She calls out Keith’s name as the siren continues to rut against her, worshipping her, and the altar stones seem to glow, warm against her back.

_Let them watch,_ she thinks, shuffling her thighs to squeeze Keith’s waist.

Hasn’t she done enough for them? Let them reap her reward, feast upon it like the greedy, hungry immortals they are. Because Shiro’s learned it’s not men that are depraved and starving.

It’s them.

Keith sucks a hickey onto Shiro’s shoulder, lapping her tongue over it, and gripping Shiro’s hips so hard she swears it’ll bruise.

Shiro wonders how dark they’ll be. If they’ll be so obvious that when she goes into town and lifts her arms, the other villagers will see the siren’s marks. If they’ll whisper among themselves, girls flitting about until one of them will eventually confess it like a warning.

She hopes so. Shiro will feel no shame either. Let them _all_ see.

“Keith,” she calls, sings, and the siren pulls her closer, and she breathes in her ocean pressed scent. “ _Keith_.”

Keith growls and jerks her hips, pins Shiro tightly against her chest, as she comes, spilling a hot mess inside of her quivering pussy. It takes a few more thrusts, more cum to pool, before Shiro is squeezing around her, squirting on Keith’s cock as she empties her seed and the pain Shiro’s been ignoring fades away.

Afterward, she is sweaty and hot and the sun is too bright. Keith feels huge inside of her, too close, and when she slips out, her spill immediately trickles out, staining Shiro’s thighs and the pale stone. They have defiled the temple. Have rebirthed it. Shiro isn’t sure anymore but it hardly matters when Keith plops down next to her, just as sweaty and gross.

Keith pants against her neck and grips her chin, angling Shiro’s face so she can draw a slow, languid kiss out of her. Keith’s tongue is careful and concise as she dips deep and draws a content sigh from Shiro. There’s not a care between them, just the setting sun beginning to wane away.

Suddenly, it’s so important to Shiro that she gives thanks. Keith has saved her life, has healed her, and she doesn’t want this moment to be over yet. Shiro’s little village can wait, as can the rest of the world, but right now she just wants to paint Keith’s arms and remember the beat of her pulse.

She finds Keith’s hand and brings it up, placing it on her rising breast. The siren says nothing, just watches Shiro’s face, as the two of them stop and feel Shiro’s racing heartbeat.

How long has it been? Since she got here?

Keith runs her thumb over soft skin and Shiro smiles, tilting her head to the side so Keith can see it.

It’s returned and suddenly, the number of days don’t matter.

She lifts Keith’s hand and places a kiss to boney fingers.

“What now?” She asks and Keith hums.

“I will need to bless the altar.” She runs her thumb over Shiro’s absently. “You, however, must rest.”

Shiro wants to argue it, wants to convince Keith to let her help, but her body really is tired and so she nods, albeit reluctantly.

“And after?” She doesn’t want to hope.

Keith smiles though, bashful and quiet and not at all like the edged ones she’s been giving her all this time.

“Whatever you want.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This is my baby right now. I am currently writing a part two, which is more domestic fluff and siren backstory stuff. I was going to make this a big oneshot but there's not enough time for it and I'm too impatient haha.
> 
> If you liked this, drop a comment! It genuinely makes me day. Thanks for reading :)


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